


Play Nice

by randi2204



Category: Firefly
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal has decided just how Jayne is going to make up for what he did on Ariel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Yeah, that whole Chinese thing? Not so much with that. This touches a little bit on domination and power, but there is no non-con, at least in my head.
> 
> Disclaimer: Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon. No money, only for entertainment, etc., etc.

“Next time you want to stab me in the back, do it to my face.”  And with that, Mal set the communicator in the port window and stalked away.

 

Quite understandably, this made Jayne nervous.

 

“Uh, Mal?  You’re gonna let me in before we leave atmo, right?”

 

There was no answer.  When he peered in through the pressurized glass, he couldn’t see Mal anywhere in the cargo bay.  “Mal!  Mal, gorram you!  Either shoot me or let me in!”  He stopped short of saying please.  He wasn’t going to _beg_.  Fuck that.

 

In a few minutes, though, Jayne had himself convinced that it was getting mighty difficult to breathe, that they were about 20 seconds from breaking atmo and Mal wasn’t going open the gorram hatch.

 

Of course, he spent several of those precious seconds cursing.  It didn’t help—a breath of air he couldn’t get back—but it sure made him feel better.

 

Briefly.

 

Then he realized that the communicator was still on, and if Mal _was_ in the cargo bay, he could hear everything.  Not a good thing when he was still on his captain’s bad side.

 

“Mal!  I’m sorry, Mal!  Let me in…” He glanced back over his shoulder, watching it all grow smaller and less distinct practically beneath his feet.  That upped his panic a notch or two and he decided that begging wasn’t so bad after all.  “_Please_, Mal, let me in!”

 

“Oh, so you _can_ say please.” Mal’s voice drifted lazily through the communicator.  “What else can you say?”

 

“Mal! C’mon, Mal!” Embarrassingly enough, his voice cracked.  He was _that_ desperate.  “The air’s gettin’ pretty thin out here…”

 

“Tell me what I want to hear.” When he peered through the port, Jayne could see Mal right on the other side, his eyes clear and his face serious.

 

There was only one problem. “What the _fuck_ to you want to hear?” Jayne howled into the comm.  “I ain’t got a lotta time out here!”

 

“You know.”  There wasn’t even a hint of a smile tugging at Mal’s lips.

 

“I already agreed to what you said!” His lungs were collapsing, he _knew_ they were.  “I mean it, Mal!  Let me the fuck in!”

 

“Say it.”  He’d never seen eyes that cold.

 

Lungs straining, Jayne gasped out, “I’ll say whatever you want—I’ll _do_ whatever you want, just tell me what it is!”

 

And the hatch opened.

 

For one incredulous instant, Jayne simply stood and stared, feeling sweet air rushing by him.  When Mal made as if to shut the hatch again, though, he lurched inside, and fell to his knees on the deck grating, heaving in lung-full after lung-full.

 

Mal smirked down at him.  “See?  All you had to do was talk nice.”

 

He spat out the foulest curse in Chinese that he could come up with, and Mal only laughed, wouldn’t stop even when he added his scariest glare.

 

Of course, the way he was panting was not really very scare-making.

 

But when Mal stopped laughing, Jayne got a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the cargo bay.  Because that look was back in his eyes, that look that made him think that space wasn’t cold enough to match it.

 

“I want you to remember that.”

 

“Remember what?” he spat.

 

Mal smiled, a twisting of lips that didn’t have an ounce of funny in it, and it made him shiver again.

 

“Just something to keep in the back of your head.”  And with that, he walked out of the cargo bay.  No, not walked, it wasn’t anything so simple or straightforward as _walking_—the bastard _sauntered_ up the stairs, leaving Jayne staring at the wings of his coat fluttering against the railing.

 

It was some minutes before he could even ask himself “What the fraggin’ _hell_ just happened here?”

 

He was no good at this playing games shit.

 

***

It was a week or more before Jayne noticed the sidelong looks that Mal gave him when they passed in the corridor, or when they were sitting down to a meal, or… _whenever_.

 

It was nerve-wracking.  Y’know, just a bit.  There were nights he actually thought that Mal had been infected by some blood sucking demonic thing and was going to come down the ladder into his berth and… He couldn’t finish the thought because of the full-body shudder that ripped through him.

 

He started sleeping with Vera right to hand after that.

 

But it was enough to give a man the jitters, is what it was.  The looks, the smirks, the way those cool blue eyes seemed to appraise him at every turn?

 

It was enough to make a man think that the little psycho-witch’s psychoness was catching.

 

He shivered for a good hour after that.

 

In the end, though, he decided that the direct approach was the best one, and flung Mal bodily against the wall in the mess.  “What the hell is your problem?”

 

Mal pushed himself off the wall and visibly restrained himself from swinging.

 

Jayne wished like hell he would.  _Nothin’ like a good fight to clear the air._

 

“Who says I’ve got a problem?  I ain’t the one throwin’ my captain against the wall!”  Mal straightened his shirt and gave him a grin that was much too feral to be called _easy_.  “So I’d say _you’re_ the one with the problem.”

 

“I ain’t the one givin’ me weird looks every time I turn around, either!”  Jayne had already clenched his hands into fists, and was just waiting for a reason to start using them.  “Fuck, Mal…”

 

He always forgot that Mal was a scrapper.  Mal was slighter than he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to fight dirty.  And fast.

 

And that was his excuse for why he was so surprised to find himself with his cheek pressed bruisingly hard against the wall of the mess, one arm twisted up in an equally painful manner behind him.  Mal was leaning against him heavily, making sure his cheek kept close contact with the wall.  He thrashed a bit, but Mal slammed him back against the wall with the weight of his whole body, and he subsided, rolling his eyes and breathing harshly.

 

“All you had to do was ask nice,” and Jayne was shocked into complete stillness by the quality of Mal’s voice, the way it kind of _purred_ out of him, like one of those great fluffy feline critters he’d seen in the vids.

 

That was nothing to the shock that he got when something warm and wet curled over his ear and he realized it was Mal’s tongue.

 

_What the _fuck?

 

He didn’t even realize he’d spoken aloud until he heard Mal’s chuckle, dry and soft in his ear.  “You say the nicest things,” he whispered, and leaned into him even further, and what Jayne had assumed was Mal’s gun pressed hard against his backside.

 

That was not an improvement in the matter, in Jayne’s opinion.

 

He lurched again, trying to break the grip Mal had on his wrist, but only succeeded in wrenching his shoulder nearly out of its socket when Mal jerked his arm a fraction higher.  Panting, he stopped, still trying to see Mal out the corner of his eye, trying to figure out just what in all the hells was going through his head.

 

“You wanna know just what’s going on, right, Jayne?”  Mal eased the pressure on his arm just enough so that it was no longer excruciating.  Without waiting for agreement, he went on, “Well, first off, you gotta remember the fun time we all had on Arial, especially that part where you were locked out of the ship while we were lifting off.  As Wash would say, fun times.”  His grip slackened just a little more as he spoke, and Jayne was able to take a couple of almost normal breaths.

 

“Anyway, to get back inside, you were beggin’…”

 

“I was not!” Jayne growled, throwing himself away from the wall.  Not a good move; not only did it just lose him all the slack he’d just been given, it pressed not-Mal’s-gun harder against his ass.

 

“You was too.” Jayne grunted as Mal twisted his arm up higher again.  “But that’s not what’s important.  The important words were actually ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’ Something like that, anyway.”

 

This time, Mal bit down on his ear after licking it, and as much as he didn’t want to, Jayne shivered against the wall

 

He was _not_ liking where this was heading, not liking the way Mal’s voice had dropped into the “dangerous” tone, or the way the feel of his breath against his ear was doing something strange to his insides.  It felt like he was getting a fever, the way he was sweating.

 

“So I thought about it long and hard.  I could have asked for you to never try to take over my boat again, but that would have been straining your feeble li’l brain cells past all recovery.”

 

Jayne wanted so badly to throw Mal off and pound his face into the floor, but before he could get the leverage to do it, Mal kicked him in back of his knee, hard enough to make it buckle, but not hard enough to cause permanent damage.  He groaned as a flash of pain shot up and down his leg.

 

“Instead, you do whatever I want you to _right now_—and, y’know, for the next few minutes, just to be reasonable about it—why, then, everything will be just fine.  Understand me?”

 

Jayne didn’t answer immediately, just kept blowing out his breath against the wall and wondering why the hum of the engine didn’t drown out Mal’s voice.

 

_“Understand me?”_

 

The way Mal not-quite snarled out the words went straight through him, grabbed him by the balls and _squeezed_.  His lips parted and he gasped quietly and all of a sudden he didn’t really _mind_ that Mal was practically pushing him through the wall.  His agreement was a single jerk of his head, before Mal could decide to continue dislocating his shoulder.

 

Then, slowly, Mal eased the pressure on his arm, and it started to tingle as blood rushed back.

 

He had no time to enjoy feeling his arm again, however, because Mal spun him around, slammed him back against the wall and he was feeling something quite different.

 

He’d had women grope him before, and there’d never been a time he hadn’t enjoyed it.  But he’d never been pinned by a body quite like this, never had the feeling of hard muscle against his chest instead of pillowy breasts, never had a man’s hand stroke him though his pants, never had the sense of _strength_ in the fingers that were gripping him.  Mal’s touch was firm-gentle, teasing-strong, maddening.  Jayne knew that if Mal hadn’t had his tongue down his throat at the time, he would have groaned.

 

As it was, all that came out was a faint whine.  He closed his eyes, let his body take over and his hips pushed forward against Mal’s hand.

 

Mal’s tongue didn’t twine inside his mouth like a woman’s, but it _fought_, it made the kiss rough, a battle, thrusting at his own, retreating and then advancing again.  He couldn’t catch it, couldn’t trap it, couldn’t gain control.

 

And that hard thing that wasn’t Mal’s gun was digging into his thigh now, too distracting to believe.

 

His heart pounded too loud in his ears, and he rocked forward against Mal’s hand, felt the heat of it branding him even through the thick material of his pants.

 

His lips were mashed and swollen when Mal finally broke the kiss, and he was dizzy enough from the lack of air to let his head fall back against the wall and just _breathe_.

 

Instead of giving him the chance, though, Mal set his teeth in the flesh of his neck, nibbling, worrying, then licking the resulting weals.  His one hand continued to squeeze his cock through his pants, while the other rucked up his tee-shirt and snuck underneath.

 

Blunt nails dug into the muscles outlining his ribs, scraped over his side, flicked over his nipple, and he made a sound deep in his throat at the sensation.

 

His hands were shaking, so he clenched them into fists.  In some part of his mind that was still getting enough blood to connect words together semi-coherently, he wondered just what Mal had in mind.

 

Then he decided that he’d find out when he found out, and then that Mal could just keep doing what he was doing right now, thank you kindly.

 

Anticipation curled his toes in his boots when Mal unbuckled his belt, and less than a second later he could feel the gun-formed-calluses on him.  They felt _weird_, because the only femme he knew with that kind of hardness on her palms was Zoë and Jayne just could _not_ imagine her doing _this_ to him.

 

Fast, slow, light, hard, thumb brushing over the crown, and he had no control at all over what his hips were doing, because every part of his brain was suddenly centered in his cock.  “Uhhn…”

 

Then the hand was gone, and he actually _whined_, his pelvis jerking forward, searching for that touch.

 

“Demandin’, ain’t you?” Mal chuckled at him once more, and Jayne forced his eyes open, ready to reach out and—but then there was contact, fingertips swirling up the length of his shaft, teasing light, and he shivered, eyes rolling back into his head.

 

“But if you want more, you got on too many clothes.” 

 

A breath escaped him in a huff, but whether he meant it to be a laugh or a sigh, even he didn’t know.  Whatever, he could still feel the pads of Mal’s fingers gliding over him, could feel himself growing slick as those wicked digits smoothed fluid over the crown, down his length.

 

“C’mon, Jayne, get with the program.”  Was Mal sounding a little breathless?

 

“Then… you’d better… get your hands… off, hadn’t you?”

 

“Oh, I _do_ beg your pardon.” And despite the mocking tone, he withdrew his hand immediately.

 

As soon as Mal was no longer stroking his cock, Jayne took a deep breath, and maybe kinda wondered why he was letting this happen, why he was letting Mal do this to him.

 

If he really thought about it, he could not only force Mal to back off, he could do some right permanent damage.

 

But then he recalled the way Mal growled in his ear, the way the sound of his voice had made his cock twitch in response, and didn’t bother to think about it anymore.

 

In any case, his body was on autopilot, and even before he’d truly gotten that far in what passed for his reasoning, he’d pulled off one boot and was unlacing the other.

 

“Skin out, Jayne,” and that dark note was back in Mal’s voice again, the note that made him shiver hot and cold all at once, the note that made him want…

 

His fingers had fumbled a knot into the laces of his other boot, and with a snarl, he grabbed the knife from his belt and sliced.

 

Mal snorted.  “Well, that’s one way to do it…”

 

Jayne’s pants went flying and draped themselves over one of the chairs.

 

Before the fabric even finished ruffling its way to rest, before he could even think about climbing back to his feet, Mal was on him again, straddling him, pinning him down, lips hard and demanding on his.

 

Jayne struggled, more from habit than from an actual desire to get away, and Mal settled more firmly on him, tongue sunk deep into his mouth.  After only a moment, he groaned and surrendered, muscles going slack, willing to submit to this strange dark-Mal and let him have his way.

 

_More than willing_.

 

“Not gonna resist?”  Mal continued pulling away, sliding down the length of Jayne’s body, the worn cloth of his trousers sliding soft against his skin.  “Well, it’ll still be fun…”

 

Jayne could say nothing; he was too busy remembering how to open his eyes.  Mal’s hand was sliding up and down his cock, teasing strokes that made him quiver and tense and bite his lips to hold back the groans clamoring for release.

 

With his eyes closed, he could hear Mal shifting around, then felt a push against the inside of his thigh, urging him to spread his legs further apart.  Thinking he knew what was coming next, he did so, and felt the brush of fabric against his legs.

 

Suddenly he yelped like a caught pup—a cool, slick-sticky something was searching between his buttocks, and that made him try to skitter across the floor, to get away.

 

“Lie _still_,” and in Mal’s voice was an inflection of command, a hint of the authority he had wielded in Serenity Valley.  The sound, the _feel_ coiled through him and he shivered in reaction.

 

But he didn’t move otherwise, just lay on the floor, quivering and staring at the ceiling, fists clenched.

 

Mal pushed his legs further apart, then resumed stroking his cock until Jayne was moaning and biting his lip once more.  Then that cool slick something invaded him, and he tensed at the quick jab of pain, hissing.

 

But he didn’t protest.

 

After a few moments, wriggling around inside him—_inside him!_—the pain just kinda disappeared, and it started to feel all right.

 

And then it felt _better_ than all right, and stars burst behind his eyes and he gasped and arched his back and tried to impale himself even further onto it.

 

“_That’s_ where it is, then…”

 

Jayne actually _whimpered_ when Mal withdrew his finger, and his ass felt like it needed to clench down on _something_…

 

Mal didn’t say anything else, so the squelching noise sounded fairly loud, but then the finger was back, and it brought a friend, and Jayne gave a sighing little grunt as they worked into him.

 

Once, a long time ago, Jayne had been with this whore, and she was really old in the ways of the business, but still pretty as anything.  And somehow, she’d talked him into letting her shove a string of little round beads up his ass.  When he was cumming, she started pulling them out, and each time one popped out, it was like… like getting another little jolt of speed when you thought you were already going as fast as you possibly could.  He was pretty sure he’d fainted at the end of it, but she was tactful enough to say he’d just fallen asleep.

 

What Mal was doing was already starting to build up in him like that.  He could feel it all cresting within him, like he would explode soon.__

 

Then the fingers were gone again, and the hand that had gently rubbed his cock was gone, and he _needed_… was _so close_…

 

He could hear Mal moving again, and opened his eyes.  His heart was pounding so loud—louder even than _Serenity_’s engine when something spun out of control—that it was a wonder he could hear anything over the sound of it.

 

“Hands and knees, Jayne.”

 

“W-what?” Why the hell was he stuttering over that?

 

“Hands and knees.”  Dark-Mal.

 

Jayne did as he was ordered, no further questions, rolled over and braced himself on his hands and knees, with Mal behind him.

 

And waited, feeling like an idiot with his ass up in the air.  And waited.

 

“Get on with it, gorram you!” He was pleading, _begging_ for the next part, whatever it was.  He risked a glance over his shoulder.

 

“Nice and slow, Jayne,” Mal said in a tone that was almost maddeningly calm.  “Nice… and… slow. . .” Suiting actions to words, he slicked himself, using a care that Jayne knew he wouldn’t have shown in this situation.

 

And what the hell was it with Mal that he could sound so fuckin’… _unmoved_ about this?

 

Wait—_slicking himself?_  Was Mal going to—

 

_“Fuck!”_

 

Then it was too late, and he could feel something a lot bigger than Mal’s fingers pushing against his ass, and he clenched his hands into fists.  As the pain built—something way too big was going into a hole that was way too small—he dropped his head and bit his own arm, trying to stifle the scream that was rattling around in his lungs.  It came out anyway, muffled against his arm.  He was trembling.

 

“See?” And now Mal was panting.  The pain subsided to just about unbearable, and Jayne could feel flesh against his flesh, could feel something hard inside him.  “Nice and slow…” He pulled out an inch or two, pushed back in, and groaned softly.  “That’s how it’s done.”  Hands on his hips, now, urging him to move in counterpoint, then one reached around to close over his cock.

 

Then the starbursts were back, and Jayne groaned against his arm again, bucking back against Mal because it felt too good to do anything else, too good to do anything but try and get as much as he could.

 

Mal was still going slow.  Every stroke was sliding against some spot inside him that he never thought he had, something that ratcheted the pleasure higher and higher, that made his cock twitch in Mal’s hand, that made him whimper and cry and bite his arm to keep from shrieking.

 

The hand on his cock was gripping tigher, sliding faster, and Mal slammed into him, less care and more force, and Jayne could hear him groaning, even grunting a little in time with his thrusts.  His head was spinning from sensation.  He was hardly aware that he was rocking back into Mal as hard as Mal was into him.

 

And then it was too much, and the orgasm ripped through him, as long and hard as he’d ever had.  Somewhere light-years away, he was vaguely aware of Mal behind him, breathing heavily, shaking, leaning on him. 

 

Slowly, Jayne’s arms collapsed under the weight, sliding away from him, then his legs did the same.  He lay panting, in a warm little puddle of damp, Mal pressing him into the floor.

 

He had no idea how much time had passed before Mal pulled out, sending little aftershocks of pleasure through him.  But it was only then that he realized that Mal still had his shirt on, that he hadn’t even taken off his trousers.  Muscles trembling in protest, he managed to brace himself enough to turn over, and felt something warm trickle out his ass, down his leg.

 

Mal was buttoning his pants, tucking his shirt back in.  His face was set, his eyes cool and too blue; nothing there to show he’d had any kind of good time.  He stood up, towering over Jayne.  When he spoke at last, there was no inflection in his voice, either; it was as even as it ever was.  “You played nice.  Did what I wanted you to do, didn’t backtalk, even seemed like you enjoyed it.  So I’d say we’re square.”  Then he leaned forward, looking right into Jayne’s eyes.  “Don’t push me, Jayne.  You do that again, your life ain’t worth a damn credit.  Do you understand?”

 

His voice had slid back down into command mode, and Jayne felt his cock trying to twitch, to respond to it.  Slowly, he nodded.

 

Mal gave him a short nod in return, and turned to walk out of the mess.

 

When he was gone, Jayne started collecting his clothes, found that his boots had been kicked under the table, and stumbled over his knife, nearly cutting off a toe in the process.  Holding the lump of cloth strategically, the knife between his teeth, he started off in the direction of his bunk.

 

He’d kicked the ladder down when the thought struck him.

 

_I don’t have to sell Doctor Goody and his psycho sister out again, wouldn’t dare in any case.  But if I push hard enough…_

 

Jayne smirked as he climbed down the ladder.

 

Before he closed the door, he thought he heard Kaylee ask plaintively, “Is the Cap’n done flaunting his sex life now?”

 

***

October 13, 2005


End file.
